My Red Ballpen

I remember, there was a time my younger sister saw the piles of paper on my desk. I used to write a lot of poems and short stories when I have nothing better to do, which was almost everyday back then (cause I don't have a social life back in high school). She then told me, in a very bold voice that she too will write a poem. Me, being the writer in the family, challenged her.

She marched on to our dining table where she stayed for about ten minutes, a paper and a red pen in hand. After which she came to me and announced, "Ate, I have my poem na!"

I asked her to read it out to me, excited at what a grade schooler can come up with.

The poem went like:

I have a pen,
My pen is blue,
My pen is red,
My pen is blue and red.

Then I laughed.

Now, years after, I have a red pen in my hand, working my butt of here at the office, trying hard not to cry. I miss my little sister. The sister who used to sleep beside me, the sister who would listen to all my grown-up adventures with such candor, the sister who used to look up at me like I'm a super hero of some far-away land, my only sister who would write about red and blue pens.

I did a lot of mistakes in my life, and i regret most of them. I guess, i regret the time you lost your trust in me, your Ate. I hope one day, you'll grow more mature, that one day, you'll understand what happened to me and why it happened. And maybe, we can talk about ballpens again.